


The Perfect Valentine

by sneakronicity



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 10:51:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1185376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sneakronicity/pseuds/sneakronicity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's their first Valentine's Day as an official couple, and Clint tries to make it as traditional and perfect as possible.  It goes as well as you would expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Perfect Valentine

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the following prompt on the be_compromised community: _Natasha has celebrated Valentine's Day before -- with targets she was planning to seduce and kill. Faced with a real, sincere Valentine's with Clint, she has no idea what to do._

Valentine’s Day.

It was a day that had never really meant much to Natasha, just a silly consumer holiday meant to deprive people of their hard earned money just to validate their love for someone with frivolous gifts and gestures.  Why this one day?  Wasn’t that something that was more special when done randomly over the course of the year, not on a single day because it was expected?  Shouldn’t love be expressed in looks and words and actions all the time?  And if someone chose not to do anything on this day, did that mean that they loved their partner any less?

It was all rather ridiculous in her mind, but this was the first Valentine’s Day that her and Clint would be spending together, as “a couple”, and he seemed so excited that she didn’t have the heart to tell him how she felt about the holiday.

It had all started two weeks ago when he had told her that she better dust off one of her sexiest dresses because he had made a reservation at a fairly fancy (and fairly expensive) restaurant and he planned on treating her to a night of wining and dining.  It had come as a surprise; they were as far from traditional as possible, and a date for them usually consisted of takeout and a movie or doing something silly like playing tourist for the day.  She had protested, saying it was too much and she didn’t need anything special, but Clint had insisted saying that nothing was too much for her.  It was a line she had heard countless times before so she reacted the same: she smiled and kissed him and treated him like she would a mark in the past.  It made her stomach turn, treating Clint like one of them, but she didn’t know how else to react, it was the only way she knew.

The days passed, and while Clint grew more excited, Natasha became more and more nervous.  By the time the day arrived she was practically dreading every moment of it, not that anyone could tell.  She wore a deep red dress that hugged all her curves, her hair cascaded over her shoulders in soft waves, and her make-up was striking with dark lined eyes and blood red lips.   When Clint arrived at her door she actually gaped a moment to find him dressed in a tuxedo, complete with bowtie, albeit a crooked one.  He was too busy staring back at her to notice her look.

“I am the luckiest guy alive,” he said, letting out a low whistle.  That actually earned a genuine smile despite everything. The fact that she could still get that sort of reaction after all this time never ceased to make her just a little bit giddy.  

Stepping aside to let him in, Natasha’s eyes moved to the bag he was carrying with him, her curiosity piqued.  

“So apparently there are a lot of traditional Valentine’s Day gifts, and I didn’t know which to go for so I mighta picked up one of everything…” Clint said a bit sheepishly.  Turning to face her, he gave her a quick glance before focusing on the bag of goodies.  The first thing he pulled out was a bouquet of red roses.  “There’s actually thirteen in there,” he explained as she took them.  “I figured one for good luck, right?  I just pity the poor schmuck who’s gonna end up with eleven…”

Natasha was unsure whether he was joking or not but she laughed anyway; it was impossible not to when he grinned at her.  Crooking her finger at him to motion he should follow, she moved into the kitchen to put the flowers in water.

The whole situation was still strange to her; no, that wasn’t true.  The situation was strange to _them_. She had done the fancy dress and beautiful flowers many times before, but it was always a ruse.  It had never been with someone she actually cared about, so while she knew perfectly well how she _should_ act, it simply didn’t feel right.  Not wanting to disappoint Clint, though, she carried on as if everything was normal.

“Okay, so next… something sweet, right?”  The second item Clint pulled from the bag was a rather large, heart-shaped box of chocolates.

“Ah, one of my few weaknesses,” she said, because chocolate was almost every woman’s weakness, right?  Setting the vase of flowers on the counter, she took the chocolates and opened the lid.  It really was an impressive collection.  Holding the box out to him she was surprised when he shook his head; it wasn’t like Clint to refuse food, especially something sweet, but she made no mention of it.  Selecting one for herself, she bit it in half, licking her lips slowly and closing her eyes, putting on the best sort of show and effectively drawing his attention to her mouth.  “Mm, you really should try it,” she said, holding the other half up before his lips.  She could see something in his gaze, a reluctance she couldn’t place, but he cautiously took the remainder of the chocolate, touching her fingers with his lips as briefly as possible.  Again she pretended like nothing was amiss and licked the bit of melted chocolate from her fingers herself.  On any other day he would have done so for her, teasingly and thoroughly with a sly comment on his lips.  Something was wrong.

Everything was wrong.

Replacing the lid on the box, Natasha set it aside and turned her eyes back to the bag.  “Any more goodies in there?” she all but purred and Clint quickly averted his eyes, his brow furrowing.  Then he drew the final item from the bag.  It was a plush dog, golden and floppy eared, with one beady eye and the other just a line of stitches, as if the dog was winking.  In its mouth was a red stuffed heart with the words _I Wuf U_ stitched on it in white.  Hesitating a moment, she took the stuffed toy, her fingers brushing over the soft ‘fur’ before she met Clint’s eyes.  For a moment she saw him relax, her own eyes showing clearly that she found the gesture endearing.  

“That’s it,” he said, shaking out the empty bag, and before he could say anything else Natasha had wrapped her arms around him, holding him close.  

“It’s all wonderful, thank you,” she said, though the momentary happy feeling didn’t last.  This she could deal with, but there was more to come.  Maybe she should just throw herself at him, convince him to stay in for the rest of the night, but after a moment of melting into her embrace, his breath a relieved sigh against her neck, he slowly pulled back.  

“Ready to go?” he asked, and seeing how nervous _he_ suddenly was she knew she couldn’t derail his plans.  

Again the mask slid into place.  “Always am.”

The place he took her to was a little French bistro where a glass of wine cost almost as much as an entrée, and the menu didn’t lower itself to providing ingredients under the names of the dishes.  Natasha made out fine, but she could see Clint struggling.  He knew conversational French, but a lot of these dishes were specialities, so Natasha made sure to comment aloud about what she thought looked good while trying to decide what she wanted, describing a few of the dishes a little that she thought he might like.  His relief was obvious, and he didn’t stumble when the waiter took their order.

The time was spent on inane chatter; they couldn’t exactly talk about work in a public place, and the whole atmosphere seemed to staunch any of their normal topics.  The food was good, but she could tell that he wanted to complain about the portion sizes, the price and the presentation, but was holding it all in to be on his best behaviour.  She wished he wouldn’t; how could she be herself when he wasn’t?  Even the music was all wrong.

Their conversation hit an ultimate lull on the walk back to Natasha’s place, and it was as if they were two strangers on a first date.  When the silence became too much it was Clint who finally broke it. 

“You hated it, didn’t you?” he asked, throwing a sideways glance in her direction

“What?”  She was a bit taken aback by the abrupt question, but recovered quickly.  “No, it was very nice,” she said with a reassuring smile, but she could feel him looking right through her, could see in his eyes that he wasn’t buying it any longer and her smile faltered.

“I know that wasn’t you, Nat.  I’ve seen you wear your masks enough to know that wasn’t you,” he said, his voice strangely even.  She couldn’t read him, couldn’t tell if he was upset or disappointed or angry, and it bothered her that she couldn’t tell.  All she _could_ tell was that he wanted her complete honesty right now, that he _needed_ it. 

“Let’s sit down.”  Taking his hand, Natasha led Clint over to a nearby park bench where they sat side by side, their bodies turned partially toward each other so their knees just touched.  He was watching her warily, nervously, completely unsure what to expect.  Honesty was not something that came easily to her, especially honesty about her past, but while she didn’t often just open up of her own accord, she had decided some time ago that if Clint were to ask her anything she would answer as truthfully as she could.  He knew this was a huge concession for her and he rarely asked anything; he never wanted to take advantage of her.  “The only Valentine’s Days I’ve ever had are the ones with the roses and the restaurants, and they were always with a mark,” she admitted, steadily holding his gaze.  “I’ve never done this with someone I love before and I didn’t know how to… what?”  She cut off abruptly when she found Clint suddenly grinning at her as if he had just won the lottery.

“Say it again,” he said, only confusing her further.

“Say _what_ again?” she asked.

He grinned wider.  “The last part.  _I’ve never done this…”_ Trailing off he left her to finish it.

Running her words over in her head, Natasha finally realised what she had said.  She had admitted that she loved him, just as simple as that.  It hadn’t been directly, no heartfelt confession, just a statement of fact, a fact that had become so real to her that she hadn’t even thought about the words as she said them.  She loved him.  

A slow smile crept over her lips as well.  “I’ve never done this… I have never spent Valentine’s Day with someone I love… before tonight,” she said.  Her voice was confident, honest, and it left no room for doubt on either side.

Clint couldn’t have smiled any wider if he tried, and the expression he wore was one of pure bliss.  He didn’t need to say it back, the answer was written all over his face, but he did anyway. “I love you too.”

She kissed him then, tenderly and meaningfully, her arms sliding around his shoulders as he pulled her close.  All the tension of the past few weeks faded away, along with the awkwardness of the night.  She was Natasha once again, no masks required because she was with the one man who knew them all and the woman behind them, and she loved him for it.

After some time they parted, both a little out of breath and both nearly beaming.  If this was the true meaning behind this manufactured holiday then perhaps it wasn't so bad after all.  "I'm not quite ready for this date to be over, but I think we should continue somewhere more private…" Natasha said after a moment.  Getting to her feet, she grasped his hand and tugged him up after her, not that he needed the prompting after that insight.  

This time when they fell into silence it was the same comfortable one they had grown accustomed to over the years, but with an extra added little charge as they both mulled over what had just passed between them.

In Clint's case that wasn't the only thing on his mind.

“It was really terrible, wasn’t it?" he asked out of the blue.  "The date, I mean."

Natasha stopped to look at him, noting the sincerity in his question.  “No, it was…" she started to say, but he was already raising his eyebrows at her in disbelief.  "Okay, it wasn’t great, but terrible is a strong word," she admitted.

“Come on, I didn’t even know what half the stuff on that menu was," Clint called her out.  "And the prices!"  And here it was, the rant she had been expecting at the restaurant.  Feeling validated by the proof that she wasn't the only one putting on an act at dinner, she didn't put much effort into hiding her grin.  "For that much money you shoulda had to roll me out of there, but I'm still starving!  And could the music have been any worse."

“It’s the thought that counts," she said sweetly, her face a picture of innocence. 

“Well, if I ever have another thought like that you can tell me where to stick it," Clint finished with a huff, shaking his head as they started to walk again.  “I just… I wanted it to be special.  You deserve it."

They stopped again.  At this rate they would never get home.  

Taking his hand in hers, Natasha raised it to her lips and placed a gentle kiss upon his palm.  “Some days I don’t think I deserve you," she said quietly, holding his hand against her cheek.  Who else would have done all of this for her, would have taken himself so completely out of his element just to try to make the evening perfect?  But it wasn't just tonight; every day he did whatever he could to make her happy, even just to make her smile for a moment.  The big gestures were nice, but it was the little things that really counted, and it was ultimately the little things that had won her heart.

“You deserve better," he replied just as softly before one side of his lips turned up in a lopsided grin, "but too bad, you’re stuck with me now."

“Good," she said, giving his hand another kiss before dropping it and looping her arm through his instead, keeping him close as they started on their way once more. "Burritos?"

"You read my mind," he said with a chuckle, picking up the pace just a little at the prospect of real food.  Other couples rushed by them, perhaps some going to the same destination they had just left.  The poor saps, they could have it.

“You know," she said after a moment, "maybe fancy dinners aren't really us, but you can buy me chocolates any time."

"Oh yeah?" Clint chuckled.  “And what about the stuffed things?" That got a simple "no" in reply and he actually pouted.  "You mean you didn't like him?"

"I didn't say that," Natasha responded.  He actually seemed a bit genuinely upset at the thought.  Sometimes he really was a child, but she wouldn't have him any other way.  "I just don't want a whole bunch of them."  She had never been one for keeping too many knick knacks or personal items around.  Stuffed animals definitely weren't her thing, no matter how cute they are.  The Black Widow didn't do cute.

"Not a _whole_ bunch…" he pressed, giving her his best puppy dog look.  It was something she normally had no problem resisting, but tonight she simply didn't want to resist.

“…maybe once in a while,” she conceded.  "But if there gets to be too many I will fill your locker with them and you can explain it to the other agents."

"Alright, alright!  Sheesh."  Slipping his arm from hers, Clint wound it around her back instead when they reached the hole in the wall joint that sold the best burritos in town.  "I guess you'll just have to cuddle me instead."

"Now that I think I can do."


End file.
